One For The Cupcakes
by Boxster Girl
Summary: Stephnie's mom starts match making after catching Joe and Stephanie in a clinch. Set early in the Plum series, this story is specifically a Joe and Stephanie HEA.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is a Joe and Stephanie happily ever after. It takes place early in the series, somewhere in the first three books. **

**Although she'll never read it, this one is written for the lady who loves Joe best of all: Janet Evanovich. The characters and setting are hers, I'm not making any money from this work and the only profit I recieve is the enjoyment of playing with her characters. **

Stephanie Plum flipped her head upside down and spritzed Linen Breeze on the nape of her neck. Then flipping upright again, she pinned the locks closest to her face up. The curls cascaded over her bare shoulders. She slipped one earring through her ear. Even though her flirty sundress was parrot blue, her earrings were the precise color of a maraschino cherry. Her FMPs, fingernails, bra and panties matched her earrings. Not that anyone was likely to find out the color of her underwear. This was strictly a girls' night out with Mary Lou, Connie and Lula. Still, it never hurt to be prepared. And she needed to be prepared. It had been a long time since her last date.

The doorbell rang.

"Coming Lula!" she called. Stephanie grabbed the other earring and hurried to the door.

Joe stood on her doorstep. He was dressed for a night out too. His hair, still damp from the shower curled just above his Henley T shirt which stretched across his chest. His faded blue jeans hugged him perfectly and looked butter soft.

She imagined running her leg up the side of his jeans and wrapping it around his waist. "Joe?...Did we, were we… supposed to meet?" She knew better, but a girl can wish, right?

"Umm, no. I tried to call, but your phone isn't working. Some of the cell towers were knocked out in last night's storm. I wondered if you had any information on your FTA Larry Boslunk."

Larry Boslunk was the last person Stephanie wanted to think about tonight. Six foot four inches of brooding scum, he was wanted for running a backdoor casino three blocks east of Stark on the corner of Robling and Seventeenth. He was also known to play a little rough with his girlfriends. They often arrived with bruises and cracked ribs in the emergency room at Helen Fould Hospital.

"I've got nothing on him right now," she said.

"If you hear anything, let me know. He's a person of interest in a homicide I'm working on."

Stephanie nodded.

"You dropped your earring." Joe noticed as he bent down to pick it up.

Stephanie also reached for it. They bumped heads on the way down. "Ouch!" she cried.

"Shit," Joe said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Joe took the earring from the carpet. Then he leaned forward, carefully sliding the earring through her ear.

"That was smooth. How did you do that?"

Joe leaned closer. "I have many talents," he whispered in her ear.

"Really?" She whispered. Her lips brushed his neck. His spicy shower gel tickled her nose. If she pulled him into her apartment, locked the door and turned off the lights maybe Lula would go to ladies' night without her. It had been months since Stephanie had sex and she knew personally that Joe was quite talented. Her leg slid up his thigh. His hand slid under her dress. Their lips touched.

"Well! Don't that beat all?"

They broke apart like two school kids caught kissing on the playground. Joe took a breath and looked at the ceiling.

Stephanie gasped and smoothed her skirt down her leg. She still felt a bit tingly and more than a little disappointed. She glanced down the hallway.

There, next to the elevator, stood Grandma Mazur and Stephanie's Mother. Grandma held a coffeecake. Her mom held a basket of folded laundry.


	2. Chapter 2

"Your Mom caught you kissing Morelli? That is not good." Mary Lou shouted.

Mary Lou, Connie, Lula and Stephanie sat in a booth next to the dance floor. They spoke loudly to be heard over the music's heavy beat.

"Yep," Stephanie said. Her Mother had never forgiven Joe for the choo choo incident when Stephanie was six. The poems on the bathroom walls and the time Stephanie had run over him with the Buick were forbidden subjects in the Plum household. Her Mom didn't know about Morelli being her first time. At least she hoped her mother didn't know. "Mom's mystery dates for me are going to show up at family dinners, again. She's already made plans for tomorrow night."

"Girl you are in trouble. Your mama isn't good at picking men. She's been out of the process too long," Lula said.

"Just tell her to stop," Connie said.

"My mother, stop? Like that could happen." Her Mom was as easy to stop as a tornado once she'd made up her mind. Stephanie sighed.

"Who do you think she'll invite first, Willie-the-toe-sucker?" Mary Lou asked.

Stephanie grimmaced. Willie had breath that could make the dead sit up and take notice. "Oh, hell no!"

"What about Beanie Nolesski? He always wanted to you to try out for the football team. I hear he's single again."

"He just wanted a reason to tackle me. Last week we rolled in the garbage outside the Dairy Inn. He said I'd fulfilled his high school fantasy." 'Almost, fulfilled' is what Beanie actually said. In his fantasy they weren't wearing clothes. Stephanie decided to leave that little detail out. She shivered. "Anyway, he's going to be in jail for the next six months."

"I could tell her about Brandon Glick. He's a lot of fun," Lula said.

"The guy who likes to sing in the shower?"

"His singing wasn't so bad. It's not his fault the neighbors called the cops." Lula huffed.

"Don't you dare tell my Mother about him, I'm not sharing men with you Lula."

"So, who do you think she'll invite for dinner?"

"A cross dresser," Mary Lou predicted.

"…a mobster…" Connie added.

"…some guy who likes to play footsie under the table…" Lula said.

"….a man with a comb over…" Connie said. "….a know it all…"

"…someone who laughs at his own jokes and nobody else gets them…." Mary Lou said.

"…..a guy who wants to kink on the first date…." Connie said.

"and one straight up fool," Lula finished.

"They won't be that bad," Stephanie muttered. At least she hoped they wouldn't be. "Mom will get bored eventually, or a new crisis will pop up."

A man walked over to the table. He leaned toward Stephanie. "Do you want to dance?"

He looked pretty hot. At least he didn't have a comb over. Stephanie gave a little finger wave to her friends as she joined him on the dance floor. They shimmied together lightly at first, but he moved closer with each song. Taking a step away she tried to put a bit of distance between them. Not too much space, just enough to keep things friendly. His face shone with perspiration and his deodorant seemed to be failing. Ick, she thought. The music switched to a slower, more romantic pace. Stephanie turned to leave the floor.

Her partner had other ideas though. He grabbed her arm and spun her back into him. "Don't leave yet, pretty lady," he said. The alcohol on his breath mixed with the perspiration. He was much too close.

Stephanie tried to jerk out of his space, but he held her fast.

"I need to meet my friends," she said. "We're heading to another club."

"Your friends can meet you later. Let's play. Have you ever been tazed?"

Stephanie had been tazed more times than she had fingers. It wasn't fun. The idea of it being foreplay sent a chill down her spine. For the second time that night, she slid her leg up a man's leg. This time she intended plant her stiletto onto his instep.

Just before her foot connected, Stephanie was spun away into another man's arms. She looked over her shoulder. Two men had flattened her former dance partner on the floor. There was a flash of sliver as cuffs snapped around his wrists. She turned back to the man who now held her in his arms. "Thanks!" She said as she looked into his eyes.

It was Morrelli.

He growled at her. "I'm part of a team that's tracked him all night. You nearly blew the whole operation."

She stiffened. He was mad at her for interfering? "I didn't plan to be in your way. You could have told me earlier instead of feeling me up."

"You had your leg wrapped around my waist. What was I supposed to do? It l seemed like an open invitation to me. Tonight was an undercover operation." He stressed the word undercover.

"I'm a bounty hunter. I work with the police all the time. You could have dropped a hint."

"If you weren't so friendly with strange men you wouldn't need a hint. You wouldn't need rescuing either."

"That's not my fault! I didn't come on to him. He approached me." She stalked to the booth. Grabbing her purse she said, "Let's go."

"Is everything okay?"

"You can cross Mr. Kinky off your list," Stephanie stomped toward the door.

Joe was off the list too, even though no one else knew he'd ever been on it.


	3. Chapter 3

Cheerful sunlight bathed Stephanie's bedroom, but she didn't feel cheerful. The brightest patch from the window focused on her feet. They felt like ants under a magnifying glass. From her bedside table her cell phone sang exactly Four and a half lines of Call Me Maybe. It stopped abruptly at "It's hard to…" then cycling back to "Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy…" Her head pounded like crazy. Without opening her eyes, she felt around the bedside table till she found the phone.

"Murph," Stephanie said into the phone.

"Hello, Stephanie. I know it is Saturday, but can you come in to the bonds office early? We have a bunch of new FTAs," said Connie .

"Give me an hour," Stephanie mumbled and hung up. Achy and fuzzy headed, she rolled onto her stomach, putting her pillow over her head to block the light from her eyes.

The hot sunlight had traveled up her legs to the small of her back where it almost felt good. Carly Rae Jepson started singing again "…. and this is crazy…" "Hello," Stephanie croaked into the phone.

"Late night?" said Connie.

"I got home at three."

"I thought you had another mystery date dinner at your Mother's house last night."

"Randy was fun. We hopped a few bars after dinner."

"I can't believe your mother found a winner."

"Me either." Stephanie said. "Give me a half hour, okay?" She closed her phone. As she stumbled toward the shower, Carly Rae continued to sing in Stephanie's mind about other boys chasing her. Great, she thought, I have a hangover and an earworm. She tried to drowned the song by thinking about the night before.

Randy Sklar, Betty Meyers' stepson, was the man her mother invited to dinner last night. He was the lead singer and guitarist in a local retro band. His big nineteen eighties rocker hair sent her mom straight to the liquor stash behind the cooking oil. Stephanie liked his hair though. Sometimes he moved it out of his eyes with a quick flick of his fingers. It was a quirky habit, but after a few times it she got used to it. Eventually Randy won her family over by joining in conversations and laughing in all the right places. She hated to admit that her mother found a match, but he was a lot of fun. Later at the bar they had a great time. His kisses were pretty good too. True, he was no Morrelli, but maybe he didn't have as much practice.

Morrelli had kissed half the girls in her high school class and most of the ones in his own. Morrelli was an expert. Practice makes perfect, and he had seduction down to an art. It had been three weeks since Joe had knocked on her door. Three weeks since she'd wanted to drag him into her bedroom, shut the door, and shove him onto her bed. What about later? Could he ever be serious about her? She wondered if he was worth risking her heart. No, he would be a fantastic weekend fling. That was all he had to offer any woman. Every gossip in the Berg knew that, especially her mother. That's why her mother had started the Save-Stephanie-from-Morrelli-Find-her-a-Boyfriend-Immediately campaign three weeks ago.

It had been three whole weeks of family dinners with somebody's nephew, cousin, grandson, stepson sitting next to her. She had endured three whole weeks of bad breath, jittery fork dropping, nervous laughing, and generally awkward meals. Finally her mother found Randy. Even if his kisses didn't set her ablaze, he seemed alright. She was glad too. There was no telling who her mother would have invited next.

At the bonds office Connie handed her a short stack of FTA files. The first FTA was Georgia Wilby. Ms. Wilby skipped bail after being arrested for disorderly conduct and theft. According to the police report, Ms. Wilby stole a pile of chicken manure from her neighbor's driveway. When the neighbor confronted Wilby, who owned a landscaping business, she threatened to ram a pitchfork through the neighbor.

Glancing through the rest of the files she found a hit and run driver who crashed into a power pole leaving her car at the scene and five city blocks in the dark for two hours. There was a cross dressing kick boxer wanted for shoplifting Twinkies and a man wanted for drunk and disorderly conduct.

Stephanie opened the last file absentmindedly as she picked up another doughnut. She looked down at the photo and her heart sank. In the mug shot a man with a bruised check, and green eyes glared at her. His teased lacquered hair now sprouted in greasy clumps revealing a deep receding hairline. It was Randy Sklar having a very bad hair day. He failed to appear in court yesterday on charges for possession of a control substance and resisting arrest.

"Who do you want to round up first? Do you want to try for the guy with the wild hairdo? He looks like fun," Lula said.

"He's fun alright. He came to dinner last night. My mom set me up with an FTA."

"That's crazy!"

"That's my mom. I wish she'd stop match making."

"Now I really want to meet him. Let's go after Randy," said Lula.

"We don't need to do that. I've got a date with him tonight. We'll go after the lady who stole the chicken poop."


	4. Chapter 4

"What is that you're humming?" Lula asked Stephanie. Lula hummed Stephanie's tune for a moment then sang the last line out loud "This is craaaazy…. This song is crazy!" Lula said. I didn't know you liked to sing. I should call Brandon Glick. You could sing a duet with him in the shower. You never know, you two could be a perfect match."

Stephanie growled. She didn't want any more blind dates, not her mother's or Lula's. They weren't fun. Every single one of them turned out weird, like Randy Sklar. She thought he was okay, until she realized she had to drag him down to the police station to be rebonded or she wouldn't make her rent payment this month. "No! I don't need a boyfriend. I already have a date for tonight."

"...with an FTA. I want to see the look on his face when he finds out his date is there to drag him back to the pokey." Lula sniffed. "Hey! What's that smell? We're in the middle of the city and it smells like Old McDonald's Farm around here."

Stephanie turned onto Oldham Street. The neighborhood looked like rest of the Berg, two story houses settling comfortably into middle age. The emerald lawns, trimmed precisely to the edges of sidewalks, porches and flowerbeds, rolled across yards. Not a single blade of grass was out of place. A dandelion wouldn't dare pop its yellow head up through the bluegrass in this neighborhood. It would be decapitated in an instant. Stephanie spotted the source of the smell three driveways up the street on the right. A load of chicken manure formed a lumpy, gray dune in the middle of the driveway. She parked her car in front of that house.

Neighbors were approaching the pile with shovels and wheelbarrows. There was a small dump truck backing towards the pile. Turned sideways the truck stopped partway up the driveway effectively blocking the street. The driver's arm hung over the open window, an iconic Harley Motor Cycle shield tattoo was clearly recognizable even at this distance. "We should turn around," Stephanie said. We can come back later when there aren't so many people. We could go find some Tasty Cakes or a sub sandwich from Giovichinni's," said Stephanie. She didn't want to be close to the poop. "If there's a pile of something gross within a hundred feet of an FTA, I end up rolling in it. No, Lula, let's come back later."

"It smells so bad here I've lost my appetite and that never happens. We might as well go find Georgia Wilby now because I don't want to have to smell this stink twice."

"We don't have to find her. She's the one driving the dump truck."

"How can you tell?"

"How many women do you know with a Harley tattoo on her forearm driving a dump truck? Besides, the side of the dump truck says "Wilby Landscaping and Excavation."

"All the more reason to pick her up now so she don't get lost." Lula said as she stepped out of the car. "Besides, I want to know why they're using manure around here. It's not like the Berg is in Iowa or something."

Stephanie followed Lula to the gathering of people, carefully avoiding the pile. One woman stood with her arms crossed. She stood protectively in front of the pile. Five neighbors holding shovels were moving towards her.

Geogia Wilby jumped from her truck. Slamming the truck's door she then approached the group. "We told you Hannah, do not to bring anymore of that crap back to the neighborhood. There are plenty of fertilizers that don't smell. Quit bringing that shit onto our street."

"It's the best fertilizer. My grandpa had the best yard in Queens. He always used it and it's cheap too," said the neighbor with a stubborn glare at Wilby.

"It's cheap because no one wants it in their yard. And your grandpa would be run out of Queens if he tried to use that stuff on his lawn now. We can't even sell our houses to get away from your stinky yard. No one will come within five blocks of this place, said Wilby."

"This is a nice neighborhood with the green lawns and red brick houses. I wouldn't mind living in a place like this," Lula said. She stood to the side of the small mob. Standing between the dump truck and the manure Lula had planted herself dangerously close to the pile.

Hannah turned on Lula. She wore a green t-shirt that said "Kiss My Grass." While she was only about 5'3" and rather round, but she had muscular arms. No doubt they developed from shoveling piles of manure.

"Ummm, Lula, we should go," said Stephanie.

Hannah, giving Lula the full body scan, said, "What are you doing here? Who asked your opinion? Maybe I don't want a fat cow in spandex for a neighbor."

Lula looked like bull about to charge. "I'm here to pick up an FTA, Georgia Wilby. And who are you calling fat? I may have a few extra pounds, but they enhance my womanly curves. And you ain't so skinny mini yourself. You'd best be watching what you say." Lula and the lady in green started to close in on each other.

Stephanie took a step toward Lula. She was going to drag Lula back to the car before it was too late, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. It sent a frisson of electricity down her spine. There was only one person with that type of energy running through his veins. She turned and looked at Joe Morrelli. Behind him two uniformed cops had joined the group. Three Trenton PD cars lined up at the curb. "Jeez Joe, you could have let me know you were there. What's wrong with using your siren or something?"

"You have to pay attention to your surroundings, Steph. We weren't in stealth mode. You could have noticed us."

"Someone called the cops?" Stephanie asked.

Joe nodded. "Mr. Winder, who lives at the end of the block. Every Spring this neighborhood goes off the charts with breach of peace complaints and domestic disputes. These people are in the middle of a turf war."

"This is gang territory?" she asked. She stared at all the potted flowers with petunia blooms cascading over the rims, the budding crabapple trees, forsythia, and finally the beautiful lawns in front of each house. "But it's so pretty. There isn't a slash of graffiti anywhere."

"Not a gang war, a turf war, a grass feud. Each house proud neighbor trying to out landscape the next. The only problem is this one," he said motioning to the woman with her back to the pile, "insists on using manure straight from the hen house. Because it's uncomposted, it smells, and burns the grass. When it does burn the grass, she'll lodge a complaint that her neighbors are putting chemicals on her lawn in the night to kill her grass. No one can convince her to change her fertilizer or at least use composted manure. One day she's going to be murdered in her sleep and we'll never figure it out who did it because she's alienated the whole damn street."

"I've got to grab Lula before she ends up in that pile," Stephanie said.

"It's too late."

Stephanie turned back to the gathering in time to see Lula lunge at the woman. The woman stepped to one side and with a sploosh, Lula face planted into the gray, squishy pile. Another resident was pushed into to it too and she grabbed the arm of Hannah on her way down. The women began fighting, slipping in the whole sloppy mess. The other residents of the street took three steps back and watched in fascinated horror. Unnoticed, Georgia Wilby slipped into her truck. The motor coughed. Then with a loud grumble the dump truck lumbered down the street as Wilby drove away.

The noise startled the three women in the chicken poop. Humiliated, Hannah got up and ran to her house without even noticing Morrelli and the other two cops standing there. Stephanie, turned to Morelli, "Do you have to arrest Lula?"

"If she calls and lodges a complaint," Joe said nodding at the closed door to the house, "we'll come back to investigate. I don't think she will, as we'd arrest her too. Wasn't that your FTA who drove away?"

Stephanie sighed. "Yes."

"You have to keep your eyes on the prize," Morrelli said. "Are you busy tonight? We could grab a pizza from Pino's."

"I can't I have a date with an FTA."

"Well, call me maybe," Joe said with a wink.

That's when Stephanie realized she'd been humming again.


End file.
